


I'd make a one punch man joke if I knew enough about it to make the joke

by weekend_conspiracy_theorist



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 17:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16916985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weekend_conspiracy_theorist/pseuds/weekend_conspiracy_theorist
Summary: Peter starts (and ends) a barfight. Sort of. Does it count as a bar fight if only one punch is thrown?





	I'd make a one punch man joke if I knew enough about it to make the joke

Peter blinked, the roaring in his ears quieting back down, and the guy he’d just punched stared up at him from the floor of the bar, one hand clamped over his bleeding nose.

“What the _fuck_?” he snarled, starting to drag himself up, and Johnny gave a too high, too nervous laugh and yanked on Peter’s arm–it wasn’t enough to make him so much as sway, every muscle in his body tense with fury, but Peter blinked again, turning to look at Johnny.

“Let’s get out of here,” Johnny hissed, giving Peter another tug, and Peter remembered enough of himself to let Johnny lead him out into the brisk September air.

“God, you’re _such_ a guy sometimes,” Johnny complained. He barely even had to raise a hand before a cab was screeching to a stop–cabbies talked to other cabbies, and members of the FF always tipped generously. “I go pee for two minutes and you start a bar fight, Pete, seriously?”

“To be fair,” Peter said, folding himself into the backseat and sliding over for Johnny to follow, “I’m pretty sure I _ended_ a bar fight.”

“You throw the first punch?” Johnny asked dryly.

“There was really only the one punch, total.”

“Then you started it. The Baxter Building, please.”

Peter huffed, turning to glare out the window with a stubborn set to his jaw. The guy had said… some things. No matter what Johnny seemed to think, he’d definitely started it.

“So much for a nice night hanging out with my best friend,” Johnny muttered. “You ever think things through before you do them?”

Peter snorted, tearing his eyes away from the people on the sidewalk to fire back, “Do you?”

Johnny didn’t have an answer to that. They spent the rest of the trip in stony silence- Johnny’s arms crossed over his chest as he fired periodic moody glares in Peter’s direction- but there was still never a question of whether or not Peter would be coming up to the FF’s penthouse living quarters.

“I’m sorry,” he managed by the eightieth floor, not quite meeting Johnny’s eyes in the reflection thrown back at him by the gleaming chrome of the elevator doors.  “Not for punching the guy, because he was a dick–” Johnny snorted– “but I’m sorry I ruined your plans for the night.”

“You better be,” Johnny shot back, but he seemed satisfied by the overture. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Peter thought about the things the guy had said, and then he thought about the satisfying _crunch_ of his nose under Peter’s fist.

“Well?” Johnny asked impatiently.

“I’m not saying anything other than that he deserved it,” Peter said flatly, and the elevator gave a welcoming _ding!_ and opened into the living room. He led the way out, waving at Franklin and Val where they were arguing over video games on the couch, and Johnny caught up to him in a couple strides with those stupid long legs of his.

“That is not an answer,” he said quietly, leaning close enough that Peter could feel his breath fan warmly over his ear.

“It’s the only one you’re getting. Look–we can fire up a movie, make the best of things, or we can argue about this all night!” He turned on his heel, walking backwards with unerring confidence, and spread his arms wide as he met Johnny’s gaze. “It’s your choice.”

“You’re _such_ a dick.”

“Sure thing, Flamebrain.” Peter let his back bump against the wall next to Johnny’s bedroom door, knocking Johnny’s shoulders with two knuckles and offering his best rogueish grin. “What movie do you wanna watch?”

“Tell me one thing, first.” Johnny caught Peter’s hand before he could retract it, checking it for bruising–it was a sweet gesture, if unnecessary; his healing factor had already cleared up the worst of it. “Did it have anything to do with me?”

“Did what?” Peter asked, playing dumb, and Johnny’s eyes literally sparked with annoyance.

“Whatever that dude said to you! If it had something to do with me, I think I deserve to know what it was!”

“Why?” Peter asked bluntly. “So you can feel hurt and pissed off? It’s not like you actually know this guy; you’re never gonna see him again. What difference does it make?”

“Enough of a difference for you to have _punched him_ , apparently!”

“Because he was _gross_ and a _dick_ , and can we _please_ just keep it at that?”

“No–”

“ _Johnny_ –”

“Don’t you ‘Johnny’ me, Parker–”

“Oh, are we not on a first name basis–”

“Why can you never just _shut up_ –”

It was hard to describe exactly how they got from the yelling and the hand waving to stumbling backwards through Johnny’s doorway, making out like the teenagers they hadn’t been for a very long time. It might have had something to do with Johnny never letting go of his wrist; Peter wasn’t sure.

“Huh,” he said, blinking, after they broke apart. Johnny was panting, clinging to Peter’s belt loops with both hands, and his unbelievably blue eyes went from wide with surprise to narrowed in annoyance.

“‘Huh’?” he parroted. “Is that all you have to say about kissing me?”

“What am I supposed to say?” Peter asked exasperatedly. “‘That was fun, let’s do it again some time’?”

“You could try, like–”

Peter cut him off with another kiss, reveling in the way Johnny melted into him as he pulled him closer. He drew back again, not bothering to open his eyes, and nosed gently at Johnny’s cheek. “That was fun,” he murmured. “Let’s do it again some time.”

Johnny groaned, half-heartedly trying to tug out of Peter’s grip. “You are literally the worst human being I have ever met.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, not really listening. “Seriously, let’s do that again.”

**Author's Note:**

> hi my name is weeks I'm 21 and I never fucking learned how to title my fics


End file.
